The River of Night's Dreaming
by Phoenix Serapha
Summary: Co-written with Ceremonial Blood. This is the teaser of our as-yet-nameless fic involving the lovely incestuous couple, which we hope to post sometime within the next 20 years.


As stated, this is a teaser for a fic that I'm writing with Ceremonial Blood.  We haven't finished it yet but this is the first completed scene and we, being impatient people who will undoubtedly one day learn that such a virtue is needed in life, wanted some opinions, so here it is.  This fic—currently unnamed—revolves around the lives of Riff and Magenta, before they go to Earth, while they are on Earth, and after the Denton Affair, including the events of ROTOQ and afterward.  

This scene takes place the night of the Denton affair, just as Brad and Janet are about to arrive, hence its name.  Previously, Frank has discovered the nature of Riff and Magenta's relationship and, being the jealous type that he is, disapproves (of course he does- he's not being included!).  The following scene contains a brief flashback of that encounter, as well as an endearing ramble regarding their childhood, including some references to ROTOQ (sort of, the whole doctors/nurses thing… such an adorable mental image).   Magenta is asleep after providing Riff with some rather private entertainment (after, of course, the convention guests are too busy to notice their brief absence) and he's thinking his nice little Riffish thoughts….. anyway, please let us know what you think?

On one last note, forgive the typos.  I have but limited time before I must get off the computer and I promised my co-author I would post the teaser tonight, and thus I've no time for much editing.  

Let's proceed, shall we?  

"There's a Light" 

    She slept beside him now, calm and still and silent save for the sound of her placid breathing.  So rare it was for her to sleep so peacefully without her constant fidgeting, her lethargic sighs, that he feared to touch her, but nonetheless, as though possessed of a desire of their own, his hands found her naked flesh, softly as though she might break.  He pressed himself against her, sighed at the feel of her warmth of her skin that was always such a pleasant contrast to the chill of his own.  She did not stir.  

    "Most beautiful sister," he whispered into her ear, brushing aside her dark hair to reveal her face.  A small, contented sound, more like one a child would utter, escaped her parted lips.  His hands traveled down the length of her body, her smooth back, her rounded hips, over her thighs and inside them, only barely touching that part of her that had only hours ago been the primary object of his interest in her.  She moaned quietly but did not waken.  

    _Frank's hand beneath his chin, caressing the underside of his face.  "You would not permit any harm to come to your sister, would you, Riff Raff?"  That coy smile, eyes widened in inquisition.  _

_    His face remained expressionless, his voice devoid of emotion.  "What do you mean, Master."_

_    "I mean, Riff Raff, that if you continue to displease me, I shall be forced to take certain actions I would rather not."  He stepped closer to him, the heels of his shoes clicking ridiculously on the marble floor.  "Do not try to lie to me—I know that both you and your sister desire nothing more than to return to Transexual.  If the two of you continue in your defiance I shall have you exiled and confined to this planet."  As an afterthought he added, "And of course I'll have Magenta executed."_

_    His fists clenched at his sides; he swallowed and bit down on his tongue to prevent himself from speaking.  _

_    Frank moved as if to leave, paused.  Looking back over his shoulder he pursed his lips and said, "If I were you, Riff Raff, I would consider this."_

He scowled, lay his head against the tangled mass of her hair.  She had often let him brush it for her when they were young, gently pulling the comb through the twisted tangles, the crimson knots that formed so easily in it, and then sometimes when they were very much younger she would let him place the cap upon the top of her head when he was done, the small replica of a nurse's cap she had worn in their games.  Such a tender little thing she had been then, his sweet sister, his beautiful Magenta, how lovely she had been and how he had taken care of her always, the only one she had ever needed.  A beautiful child she had been, born fat and pink and healthy where he had been wasted and sickly.  When they were young he had felt only a brother's love for her, only a brother's desire to watch over her and be constantly with her and to occasionally play games in which she was his wife and he her husband.  It was not until later that he had begun to desire her, when she transcended from being an adorable cherub to a succulent angel, a goddess of lust and an embodiment of all that was carnal and dark, when her doll's face became too seductive to be that of his young sister, when her voluptuous little body began to fill out the nurse's uniform that had once been so loose on her.  It was then that he had begun to want her and yes, hadn't she wanted him too, hadn't she wanted him when in the games they continued to play she had smiled so salaciously at him, when she had pressed so closely to him that he could feel every tantalizing rounded inch of her.  Oh, and then hadn't their games become interesting, each ending with an act that was anything but childish.  There had been so many new things they could do then, so many new playful little ventures, oh yes, and she had loved them all, his insatiable little angel, his darling little sister…And when they had become bored with playing doctors and nurses she had become his patient, the dying victim of some horrid disease that had only one cure and how desperately he had given it to her as she moaned and wept and pleaded for his help, as she laughed between her tears and surrendered herself to him completely, so much fun they had had then….

    He sighed angrily, moved away from her lest his trembling, clenching fists cause harm to her perfect body.  She was his sister, his lover, his possession—nothing could be allowed to harm her, to even touch her.  Not even the flamboyant Prince himself.  

    His eyes traveled from his sister's sleeping form to the window and the night outside, the reflection of the lightning upon the glass.  Thunder crashed above them and Magenta shuddered.  He kissed her cheek, caressed her smooth back.  

    "Rest, my love," he whispered into her ear.  "I fear we shall be needed later."

    In her sleep she made no response.  

    He wondered silently when Frank would at last decide to make his grand entrance upon the party, and when he did if he would become suspicious of their absence.  Let the Prince become suspicious—he did not care.  Already he had taken from its concealed place the weapon that would exact upon the Prince what he had threatened to do to Magenta; in this very room it waited, just as he was forced to, for the moment of his rebellion.  All was already in readiness; they needed only the opportunity, and with the Prince's new creation to occupy him, it was likely to present itself soon.  

    Nonetheless, he grew impatient.  

    He rose from the bed, crossed the room to the window.  Below him came the faintest sounds of the convention, bare whispers against the tumultuous rain.  He was certain that none of them had yet noticed the disappearance of the loyal doorman, and even more than this he was certain that they did not need him.  They could pour their own damned wine.  

    His eyes traveled the grounds and at once, as though they needed some new source of disdain, lit upon a pair of moving figures.  He studied them calmly, placidly, and for the briefest moment a cynical smile lit upon his face.  So pitiful they looked below him, these fools who so carefully approached the castle, at first glance obviously not too late attendees of the convention.  So pitiful, so small, just as he himself was in the grand scheme of existence.  

    Magenta sighed in her sleep, moved atop the bed.  Perhaps in the grand scheme of existence, she was just as small as he was.  

    And now they was to be another interruption.  

Darkness must go down the river of night's dreaming 

_Flow, morphia, slow_

_Let the sun and light come streaming_

_Into my life…_

He sighed wearily, backed away from the window.  He would have to go down and see what they wanted now.  

_…into my life…_

He paused beside the bed, leaned over her, touching her shoulder gingerly.  "Wake up, Magenta."

    She moaned quietly, slowly opened her large eyes and raised a brow inquisitively.  

    He picked up her maid's uniform, dropped it on the bed beside her.  "Get dressed.  There's someone at the door."

    She merely stared at him, her pretty little form quivering as she stifled a yawn.  

    He delivered a quick kiss to her forehead and without another word took his leave, slamming the door behind him.  

_*   *   *_

We know it's only a teaser but reviews would be much appreciated.  Thanks!

Ceremonial Blood & Phoenix Serapha


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